


Retrouvaille

by recurringdreams



Series: Symbiosis [2]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4520730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recurringdreams/pseuds/recurringdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn't want to start anything without Ben home and ready to curl up beside me. I appreciated that it was selfish, but after six weeks of him rehearsing, coming home stinking of stage lights, and burning dust, that vague and mystical smell which pervaded every theatre, I just wanted to hug him, and spend more than twenty five minutes in his company. </p><p>*<br/>When the work is hard, the relationship is always harder. You just have to understand each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retrouvaille

It had been nineteen hours since I had seen Ben last. I wasn't counting, or anything, but he had gotten home at midnight last night, kissed my forehead as he climbed into bed beside me, and fallen asleep with his arms around my middle as I had clicked my reading lamp off and snuggled up beside him in the hopes of a good night’s sleep.

Now, the clock read 19:36, I was finishing up cooking Thai curry, and my head hurt from staring at a screen all day, making the finishing touches to one of my chapters. It needed to be sent off at 4:45, but my editor had pushed it back to 5:30, giving me plenty of time to balance looking after my manuscript with looking after a house, and a child. I needed the glass of wine that was chilling in the fridge, but I didn't want to start anything without Ben home and ready to curl up beside me.

I appreciated that it was selfish, but after six weeks of him rehearsing, coming home stinking of stage lights, and burning dust, that vague and mystical smell which pervaded every theatre, I just wanted to hug him, and spend more than twenty five minutes in his company.  _The perks of being married to an actor,_ I supposed. Heaving a sigh, I set the curry off the heat so that it didn't burn too badly, and gave a soft moan as I stretched my neck, feeling the muscles and tendons crack as I settled in the living room and grabbed my iPad. I did like a good crossword, and it would while away the time until Ben got in.

Six crosswords later (I won't pretend they were complicated, but they had plenty of clues and kept me occupied in the spaces between Connor fussing), and I was getting a little concerned about Ben. He hadn't sent me any messages about being late home, and he had been adamant that not even wild horses would keep him out late tonight, so the little voice in my head that threw around anxious thoughts was steadily getting louder.

I didn't want to seem needy, however, so I resisted texting until five to ten.

Just as I had pushed send, however, there was the crackle of a key in our front door lock. My breath caught in my throat and I lifted my head to look through the living room door, expectant that he would stride triumphantly in, looking drunk and-or foolish. I'd likely be angry with him, and I prepared myself for the feeling, but it fell away as there was a low thud as he shut the door far more quietly than usual.

" _Fuck it,"_ the soft murmur was audible against the ticking of the clock in the hallway and the sound of the central heating clicking back on, then, just a little louder, "baby, are you still awake?" He sounded utterly broken, his voice soft but cracking around the edges.

There was no chance that I could be angry with him when he sounded like that, and I couldn't help but give him a little smile as I rose from the sofa and made my way toward the front door. Ben was leaning against the heavy oak, eyes closed and clutching an empty McDonald's bag as he breathed heavily, looking for all the world like he could sleep in the space that he stood.

"Hey, love." My hand reached out to brush over his shoulder, then up to his cheek and he leaned into it, his head lifting just a little and his eyes opening, miserable but shimmering as he pressed his lips to the curve of my palm. "You ok?"

"I'm fucking  _late, again,_ " he huffed, his eyes fluttering as he pressed another kiss to my skin and tried to straighten up, limbs deadened and heavy as he moved, sluggish and tired. "Have you eaten? Please tell me you didn't wait on me?"

"I kept you a portion but ended up eating about an hour ago, baby. I'm sorry-"

"No, no, please don't apologise." He half stumbled, sweeping me into his arms, and I briefly thought that he was drunk. Then I realised that all told, his sleep schedule had afforded him about twenty five hours this week, and his lack of coordination was exhaustion, pure and simple. My poor love. "I fucked up a scene. They kept us ages and then some  _fucker_ pulled the emergency stop between Euston and Camden I could have throttled the little bastard. We were underground for an hour and thirty five minutes and my fucking phone died and I couldn't connect to Wi-Fi because we weren't in a station and... And..." His lip trembled and I pulled him closer, drawing him down with me back into the living room and silently settling onto the sofa.

"Hey, hey, baby, it's ok." My lips pressed into his neck gently and he huffed a little more, his fingertips tightening against my shirt as he nuzzled his face into my throat, "please, please don't get upset. You're home now. You don't have rehearsal till Tuesday. Three days, sweetheart. You can curl up in bed and you don't have to move for three whole days."

"Yeah," he whispered softly, but inclined his head in a more than frustrated manner as he shifted and threw his phone across the room. "I don't want to think about anything but you and Con. I want to sleep in your arms and eat your food and kiss your body and..." He stilled against my shoulder and his breathing shifted just a little, as he buried his face into my shoulder and began to snore.

I couldn't help but huff a laugh, feeling his hand curl into the fabric of my pyjama bottoms as he pressed in closer, full on rumbling now as his body gave out on him. Happy to support him, I shifted back into the sofa and brought my knees up, curling into him as his head flopped back onto the cushion propped up against the arm of the sofa. When his head left my shoulder, he gave a little whine, and his fingers flexed against my knee, trying to get my attention. I gave another little giggle and reached for the blanket that we kept on the back of the sofa, and flapped it out so that it covered both of our bodies, chest to feet. He wriggled deeper into the soft cushioning of the sofa and I smiled as I laid down next to him, listening to him breathe as I settled down to cuddle up with him, letting him take the rest that he needed. His lips parted, and I smiled as his snores softened, his mouth curving into a small 'o' as he choked softly and his eyes shot open.

"N-nurgh!" His head shot up and his eyes flashed open, a panic in his eyes. "Y'what?"

I burst out laughing, looking over at him as he blinked around like a rabbit in the headlights. He scoffed as he stared back at me, pouting as he realised I was giggling at him. Quickly, my laughter was stifled and I pressed a hand to his cheek, running my fingers over he dark circles that had settled under his eyes. He wiggled his nose a little and pressed into my touch again, leaning over to kiss me gently as I stroked my fingers through his hair. The soft curls that fluffed on top of his head bounced under my fingers and I sighed as he sighed, leaning his head left and right a little way as he nuzzled in like a kitten.

"You fell asleep on me, baby." I murmured, pressing another kiss to his forehead. His face fell and he looked once more like he might cry, but I smoothed my fingers over his cheeks and smiled kindly at him. "You're knackered, love, let's get up to bed, have a little sleep and see how you feel in the morning?"

He nodded mutely and gripped at my hand, eyes gone big and wide and fingers long and firm as he held me.

"Please," he murmured, "please don't leave me." I looked at him with a frown, unsure of his sudden panic as he tightened his grip on my hand and twiddled my wedding ring just a little under his fingers. "I know I piss you off by barely being here, and just sleeping and eating when I am, but..." He swallowed and blinked up at me, biting his lip just a little as he continued, "these rehearsals won't be forever, and when the plays on, I'll be home most days. I'll be able to look after you, and Connor, and it'll be how we always planned it. Our own little world, you know?" His voice closed on an uptick, looking for me to tell him it would be all right.

My heart utterly broke for him. That he would think I could think less of him for going away, for having time where he did his  _work_ in the same way that my job meant I would shut myself away for days when inspiration took me...

"Oh love," I sighed softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead, gently taking his hand and steadily lifting him onto his feet, touching his shoulder, then his forearm, then gripping his hand. "My silly, anxious love. I am here, and I love you, and I will never stop loving you. No matter whether you appear, eat us out of house and home and then disappear for a month, or whether you stay at home and never leave. I love spending time with you when we can. But I'd never be pissed off for you working for a living." We were slowly making our way up the stairs now, me backwards, carefully balancing on the landing as he followed me, pale, hesitant. "You love your job, and you love me. And in three weeks when your rehearsals aren't running from dawn till dusk," I pressed a kiss to his cheek and slipped my arm back around him, so that he could take heart from the fact that I wouldn't be going anywhere. "Then we can cook big lunches together, and take Connor out to the park, and we can kiss and cuddle like we did a couple of months ago."

"It'll be ok," he whispered, and I nodded, as certainly as I could with him clutching onto me at eleven o'clock at night, barely able to stand, "won't it?"

"Of course, baby." My smile made his own spread just a little across his face. His fingers tightened in my pyjama shirt and he wavered, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my lips, so slow, so soft, so  _gentle_ as he took the lead toward the bedroom. Following his lead, I watched his shoulder slump slightly an his form hunch with another little sigh. My fingers found the space between his shoulder blades and I doubled my pace to catch up to him, pressing lightly as an attempt at reassuring him both to my presence, and my support. I wouldn’t be going anywhere, not in the foreseeable future. Two years ago I had made a promise to stand beside him until the end of the world – no matter what work he took on, or where we had to make sacrifices. All that mattered was that we were together, that we loved each other and that we understood that we would always come back together in the end.

I raised my eyes to tell him so, and saw him turning, eyes heavy lidded, to settle down on his side of the bed. Without a word, I followed, gently nestling into his side as he nudged my lips with his own and shifted, pulling first my left leg, and then my right, awkwardly over his lap. I curled around him as his hand came to the small of my back, his tongue probing gently at my own and twisting gently as he laid back so that we were both flat on the duvet.  _He wasn’t in bed, like he should have been, but he was almost there. It was a start._

Our lips met again and he gently pushed me aside, pinning me down against the duvet as he wobbled a little, pressed kisses to my nose and gave a naughty little grin.

“Ben! You were tired!” I huffed softly, squirming under his barrage of licks and kisses, and laughing wholeheartedly as the colour returned to his cheeks, his eyes brightened and he tried to tickle me into submission.  _I’m not ashamed to say that it worked._ In half a minute, I had relented, and we were making out lazily on the covers, tongues twisting into one another as Ben’s big hands, long and agile-fingered even with his exhaustion were knotting in my hair, teeth nipping and tugging at my lips as he tried to keep himself awake before bed.

Eventually, however, I felt his limbs leaden just a little, his shoulders dropping and his body softening as he edged a little more towards the pillows. Quickly, I drew away, knowing that he would be easier to convince now than if we started making out again. His hair fanned out just a little against the pillows, curls crushed as I ran my fingers gently through them again. He purred, pressing his head gently into my hand as his eyes closed and reopened, slowly now, as though it was a fight to stay awake.

“Oh, love, I was trying to apologise,” He hummed, pressing his lips against my jaw now, moving by feel rather than by sight, “I’m sorry.” 

“Silly love, you have nothing to apologise for.” I whispered, kissing his forehead, then his lips as his eyes closed again and I watched him slide quietly into dreamland.

Smiling wider now, I reached over, sliding his phone unlocked, keying in the code and switching off his alarm till Tuesday, before crawling under the covers beside him, and drawing the heavy blankets up to our shoulders. Ben’s arm drifted up sleepily as I tucked my body into him, and his hand curled gently around my hip, heavy and reassuring as his snores deepened, and I too felt myself dragged slowly into sleep.


End file.
